


after midnight

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: KNBxNBA, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 17:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: This isn't the first time Kagami has played against Haizaki in the NBA. They were in the same draft class; if anything, Haizaki is a familiar face.





	after midnight

This isn't the first time Kagami has played against Haizaki in the NBA. They were in the same draft class; if anything, Haizaki is a familiar face. This isn't the first time Haizaki has gotten himself ejected before earning five fouls; this isn't the first time he's drawn blood.

But this is the first time Kagami has found himself on his back in Haizaki’s Toronto apartment, breathing heavy, his stomach and thighs sticky, come mingling with his sweat. Haizaki hasn't taken off the spent condom, nor has he offered to clean Taiga up yet, and to be honest, it's kind of nice. He'd been happy to cede this position to Haizaki, and it's not just because he can't imagine Haizaki taking it from him; there's something about hands massaging his sore muscles, stretching him, letting someone else do the work, that feels especially nice after a win. And Haizaki may be only average when it comes to size, but hey, at least he knows what he's doing with it. 

Haizaki’s hair is buzzed almost down to nothing, head shorn of his cornrows, which is something of a surprise; Kagami is convinced that Haizaki would be sporting grills if they had been born a decade or so earlier. His taste is still something of question, tattoos creeping up his neck. But his hair is soft, to scratch and palm at when his mouth is on Kagami, for Kagami to nose and nuzzle into when Haizaki kisses down from his lips. His teeth are scraping over Kagami’s jaw and neck in a way Kagami's tempted to call gentle, and there isn't enough dissonance to call this person someone entirely different. Kagami is content with that. 

Haizaki sighs and rolls onto his back after a moment, running a hand over over his hair. He's illuminated in the blue of the night, plus a little more light; the heart of downtown is bright, shining in on them through the windows.

“Fuck man, I'm hungry.” Haizaki raises himself up onto his elbows, narrowing his eyes as he looks at Kagami. “You know how to cook, right?”

“Sure,” Kagami snorts. “Doesn't mean I'm gonna do it for you. Maybe if we were back at my place, but, nah.”

Haizaki squints up at the ceiling, clicks his tongue when he remembers that the lone Raptors game in Chicago this season already took place in December. He gets out of bed, flicks the bathroom light on; he comes back a minute or so later, tossing a damp washcloth at Kagami. Kagami lowers his eyes, taking a few extra seconds to clean up with Haizaki’s eyes on him, then tosses it back; Haizaki catches it in the air.

“Put some clothes on,” Haizaki tells him as he walks back into the bathroom, the sound of wet cloth hitting the hard plastic of a laundry basket. “Let's go somewhere.”

“What clothes? I'm not putting my suit on again till I have to go to the airport.”

“Fine,” Haizaki gestures at his wardrobe. “Borrow something.”

“That's still too much effort,” Kagami yawns. “Just order takeaway or a pizza or some shit.”

“Not like I'm gonna make you pay,” Haizaki grumbles as he walks into the other room, cellphone in hand, tugging on a pair of sweats. Kagami looks at his suit jacket on the floor; he could at least find a hanger for it. He does, and decides to help himself to an undershirt and boxers while he's at it; the fabric is soft, smelling faintly of detergent.

“Meat Lovers good for you?” 

Kagami may be 25, but he still laughs quietly to himself. 

“Yeah.”

Haizaki’s apartment is put together pretty nicely, now that Kagami isn't distracted enough to not notice. Top of the line appliances, probably paid an interior designer for the furniture, framed Canada jacket from the Summer Olympics. Taiga grabs a glass of water from the kitchen, then joins him on the couch, Haizaki flipping through channels but not getting grabbed by anything in particular.

“Fifteen minutes,” Haizaki tells him, shutting the TV off and setting the remote down. “Think I could blow you in that long?”

“I mean, I'd probably like to eat first.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that pizza bloat is real hot,” Haizaki laughs, and Kagami grins back. He raises his eyebrow then, and well, Kagami can't help but shrug, pushing the borrowed pair of boxers down his thighs. It's nice, the heat of Haizaki’s mouth, the steel of his tongue piercing moving over his head and down his shaft. Something has to be said for refractory periods and faded postgame adrenaline, but Haizaki refuses to listen--and Kagami is pretty fucking hard by the time the buzzer rings, making the both of them jump.

“Fuck!” Kagami yelps, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Teeth, dumbass!”

“I got into it, sorry!” Haizaki rushes to explain, already halfway out the door with his wallet in hand. The door slams, and Kagami is left alone with the kitchen light on; okay, so maybe he isn't even hurting that much. It doesn't look like Haizaki left any scars.

“I'm home,” Haizaki calls with sarcasm in his voice upon his return, setting the pizza box down on the coffee table. He pauses, giving Kagami a puzzled look when he sees his boxers pulled back up.

“Listen, I know you've been too stacked to ever work in the restaurant business. But don't take my appetizer back to the kitchen before I've had the chance to finish.”

Kagami comes with Haizaki between his knees, a leg over his shoulder, toes curling and grazing the glass of the coffee table. Haizaki goes to the kitchen and comes back to wipe him down; Kagami protests, but Haizaki kisses it away; the paper towel is damp with warm water and softer than anticipated as a result, and Kagami’s grip on Haizaki eases, though he keeps him close, still kissing him slow even when Haizaki’s hands have dropped back. 

Haizaki pecks him on the lips after a moment, with finality, and stands up, tossing the paper towel in the trash. He returns with two plates, though Kagami has already opened the box, slice of still-warm pizza in hand, cheese oozing as he pulls it away. 

“Don't get grease on my shit,” Haizaki flops down next to him, setting a plate in Kagami’s lap. Kagami makes a noise low in his throat as he chews.

“Is this from your local place? Shit’s delicious.”

“Better than Chicago pizza, huh?”

“You can't eat deep dish with your hands. It's different.”

“Whatever.”

They sink into silence; Haizaki flips the TV back on. Kagami squints at the oven clock; it's getting close to 2:00.

“Should probably get back to my hotel soon.”

“Where you at?”

“Oh.” Kagami blinks. “I'd have to text someone.”

“When’s your flight?”

“Eight.”

“Airport is easy to get to. I can drive you.”

“Haizaki, it's--”

“Your team isn't gonna leave your shit behind, “ Haizaki insists, swallowing a bite of pizza. He bumps Taiga’s knee with his own. “I'll drive you.”


End file.
